


So Much More Than That

by MimiWritesHerFandoms



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Character Death, F/M, Grumpy 12-year-old
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-26 02:00:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14391858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MimiWritesHerFandoms/pseuds/MimiWritesHerFandoms
Summary: You want more from Tony than just being his employee. Do you have the nerve to tell him?





	So Much More Than That

 

You’d been babysitting for Tony Stark since his son was a toddler. Well, since his stepson was a toddler, not that Tony thought of Peter that way. Tony’s wife and Peter’s mother had still been alive back then, the car accident that would take her life still a couple of years away. After her death, what had been a part-time job for a struggling, on again, off again college student had become a full-time position as Peter’s nanny. More than a nanny really - you were a cook, housekeeper, driver, teacher, and sometimes parent to not only Peter, but Tony as well.

Now that Peter was close to being a teenager, your days working for Tony Stark were numbered. Just the thought of not working for him brought you near tears most days. You tried to tell yourself that it was because of Peter, that he had become more than just a job to you - you genuinely cared for the kid, he was like the son you suspected you’d never have - but, if you were being honest with yourself, there was more to it than that.

You were going to miss Tony.

During the last eight years you’d worked as Peter’s nanny, you and Tony had become very close. You were the one constant in his life after his wife’s death, the one person willing to sit and talk with him, or listen to him vent about how unfair life was because it had taken his wife and Peter’s mother. You were the only other person besides him that could help Peter through the nightmares, could comfort him when he seemed inconsolable. You weren’t just a nanny, you were a friend and a confidant. And you were in love with the multi-billionaire.

“Good evening, Y/N,” Tony interrupted your musings, dragging you back to the present. He dropped his briefcase on the table beside the door. “How was your day?”

“It was good,” you shrugged. “How was yours?”

“Long,” Tony sighed, falling to the couch and propping his feet on the coffee table. “Where’s the kid?”

“Homework,” you replied, pointing to the ceiling. “He’s got a science project due the end of this week.”

“I should help him,” Tony mumbled. He moved to get up, but you sat beside him and put your hand on his arm.

“He doesn’t want your help,” you murmured.

“What?”

You hated that dejected look he had, the pained expression he was trying so hard to keep off of his face. He and Peter had been at odds for the last couple of months; Tony didn’t like it that his stepson was older and trying to exert his independence and Peter resented Tony’s overprotective, sometimes overbearing nature. They’d had a huge fight, ending with Peter in tears and Tony stomping out of the house. Afterwards, they’d refused to even discuss, well, anything. It had gotten so bad that you’d recently had to step in and gently end several arguments between them.

“It’s no big deal,” you assured him. “He just wants to do it on his own. Doesn’t want his dad, the tech genius, helping him. He said he wants to show everyone what  _ he _  knows, not what the infamous Tony Stark knows.” You moved a little closer, your hand running up and down his arm. “Don’t take it personally.”

Tony forced a smile, put his hand on your leg, and pressed a kiss to your cheek. You had to stop yourself from turning your head, allowing your lips to brush against his. As much as you wanted it, you weren’t sure how Tony would take it. You lived in constant fear of his rejection. 

Of course, immediately after kissing your cheek, and much to your chagrin, Tony rose to his feet and crossed the room to the bar in the corner. He poured a drink before turning to you. The distance between the two of you felt as wide as the Grand Canyon.

“You want to stay for dinner?” he asked.

“No,” you muttered. “I should go.” You grabbed your purse and jacket from the closet by the front door, waving over your shoulder at Tony as you left.

Once the elevator had closed behind you, you sagged against the wall, your hands covering your face. This couldn’t continue. You needed to tell Tony how you felt. You had to; you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if you didn’t. Even if nothing came of it, you couldn’t move on until Tony knew how you felt. 

“Soon,” you whispered to yourself. “I’ll tell him soon.”

* * *

Soon turned out to be late one night nearly two months later. Too many things kept coming up, too many emotions kept getting in the way, and honestly, you were afraid to tell him anything. Forget moving on, you’d stay stagnant in life forever if it meant not embarrassing yourself.

It was after midnight when Tony finally come home, Peter long in bed thanks to having school the next morning. You’d already resolved to stay the night, utilizing the extra bedroom that was technically your room - complete with clothes, pajamas, anything you might need. Working late was a common occurrence in your position.

You’d tried to stay awake, thinking maybe tonight would be the night you’d talk to Tony, but sleep had overcome you around ten. You’d fallen asleep with the TV on and the lights on, coming awake when you heard the refrigerator in the kitchen opening and closing and the sound of someone whistling. You stumbled out of bed, half asleep, and made your way through the large apartment to the kitchen. Tony smiled at you as you slid onto one of the stools at the counter.

“Hi,” he smirked. “Sorry I woke you.” He pulled out a bottle of wine and poured you a glass before putting the plate of leftovers you’d left him in the microwave.

You sipped from the glass, sighing as the crisp white wine hit your tongue. “You’re not sorry,” you laughed. “You like the company when you get home late.”

“I do,” Tony shrugged. He pulled the plate from the microwave and sat beside you, his knee touching yours, his elbow bumping yours every so often as he ate. You were still tired, barely awake, letting the sound of Tony’s voice lull you into a semi-conscious state.

“Seriously, though,” he said, pushing his empty plate away, “what are you doing still awake? You’re usually sound asleep by now.”

“I wanted to talk to you.” The words were out of your mouth before you could stop them and now you couldn’t take them back.

Tony turned to face you, concern and confusion flashing in his eyes. “What is it? Is everything alright?”

“I like you, Tony,” you blurted.

“Well, I like you, too, Y/N,” he chuckled. “Is that what you stayed up late to tell me?”

You grabbed Tony’s hand, and shook your head. The air in the room took a sudden turn, thickening with something you couldn’t quite explain. Even Tony’s demeanor changed as he shifted closer to you, going from calm and easygoing to serious and tense.

“Y/N?” He tipped his head, catching your eye, drawing you in, forcing you to look at him. “Talk to me.”

“Don’t make me say it,” you murmured. “Please, please don’t make me say it.”

“Say what, Y/N?” His chocolate brown eyes bored into yours, causing a chill to race down your spine. You shivered, unable to voice what you’d been feeling for years.

“Tony -”

“Say it,” he demanded, leaning closer, right up in your personal space, overwhelming you with his dominating presence.

You shook your head, fear wrapping its cold fingers around your heart and squeezing. You couldn’t do it, you just couldn’t. You stood up, ready to bolt, but Tony stood with you, his hands falling to your waist, pulling you into him. There was a second where your heart stopped beating and you couldn’t breathe, then Tony’s lips were on yours, tentative at first, like he was unsure of himself. The thought of him being unsure of himself took you by surprise, your mouth falling open, a gasp leaving you. Tony took advantage, his tongue pushing into your mouth, his fingers digging into your hips, dragging you close, his uncertainty gone.

The kiss seemed to last an eternity, the world narrowing to just the two of you and the kiss - a kiss you’d dreamt of for years, wanted for years - lived up to every expectation you’d had. When you finally broke apart, Tony rested his forehead against yours, his lower lip caught between his teeth.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he murmured.

You didn’t answer, just pushed up on your toes and kissed him again, just a brush of your lips against his, but enough to make you shudder with desire. Tony groaned, the sound vibrating through you.

“Dad?” Peter called from the top of the stairs. “You home?”

Startled, Tony took a step back, glancing toward the door leading the main living area. He looked at you, desire and duty warring with each other on his face. He spun on his heel and hurried out of the kitchen, his “yeah, kiddo,” drifting back over his shoulder toward you.

You scrubbed a hand over your face as you watched him walk away, resisting the urge to follow him. Instead you went back down the hall to your room, closing the door quietly behind you.

* * *

You were up early, before the sun came up, despite barely sleeping much the night before. You’d sat up, waiting, hoping, that Tony would come to you, finish what he’d started. You’d even found yourself standing at your bedroom door, hand on the knob, thinking you’d go to him, talk to him, figure out what exactly was happening. Instead, you’d gone back to bed and fallen into a restless sleep, curled up in a ball at the foot of your bed.

Now you were wide awake, showered, dressed, and getting breakfast ready for Peter. You’d already been up to his room twice trying to coax him out of bed, and you were about to go for a third time, when Tony appeared at your side.

“Good morning, Y/N,” he said. You didn’t fail to notice that he was keeping his distance.

“T-Tony, hi,” you stammered. You weren’t sure how to act; you weren’t even sure what you and Tony were anymore - friends, almost lovers, or still business associates? Too many things had been left unanswered.

“Can we talk? For a minute?” he asked, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

You nodded, though you couldn’t look at him, your nerves were too frayed, too on edge, so you stared at the griddle in front of you, pushing at the edges of the pancake you were cooking.

“I’m sorry about last night,” he murmured, standing a few feet away, one hand in his pocket, the other holding his coffee. “I hope you’re not angry with me. I was impulsive and pushy and I probably pissed you off, which I certainly didn’t want to do. I really am sorry.”

“I’m fine, Tony,” you said. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. You’d put everything on the line, kissed your boss, he’d kissed you back, and now he was standing in front of you apologizing for it. Meaning, he regretted it. The thought made you sick to your stomach and if that wasn’t a blow to your ego, you didn’t know what was. You wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

“I’m serious, Y/N,” he continued. “You’re my employee, I’m your boss. Kissing you was...inappropriate. I shouldn’t have done it and for that I apologize. I hope this doesn’t change anything between us. You’re so great for Peter, and I’d hate to lose you. I mean, you’ve worked for us for so long -”

“I’m fine -” you repeated, cutting him off. You sucked in a deep breath and slowly blew it out. “Speaking of Peter, I need to wake him up.” You stepped around Tony and hurried out of the room. You could feel heat creeping up your neck and into your cheeks; there was nothing like being reminded that you were nothing more than an employee to the man you were in love with to start your day.

You were halfway up the stairs when you ran into Peter, literally. To your surprise, he was dressed, his backpack slung over one shoulder and his jacket in his hand. He was smiling, a rare occurrence this early in the morning.

“Hey, Y/N,” he chirped. “What’s for breakfast?”

“Pancakes,” you muttered, one eyebrow raised.

“Yes!” he laughed, high-fiving you. “Hey, is my dad around?”

“He’s in the kitchen,” you replied. “But if you don’t hurry, you’ll be late for school.”

“I’ll have Happy take me to school,” Peter shrugged. “I want to see Dad.”

You eyed Peter up and down, wondering if he was sick or something. This was a definite change of pace. He usually ran out of the apartment without a word to Tony, refusing to let Happy follow him or take him to school. Now he suddenly wanted to see him before leaving. 

“Why are you so happy?” you inquired.

“No reason,” he grinned. Then he winked. Peter Parker, the little shit, winked. He was obviously spending too much time around his stepfather.

“It’s too early to be in such a good mood,” you snapped.

Peter’s grin turned to a frown, his eyebrows raised in confusion. “Why aren’t you in a better mood?” he asked. Anger flashed in his eyes. “What did my dad do now?” Without waiting for an answer, he turned and sprinted down the stairs.

You sank to the step, your knees drawn up to your chin, and watched Peter as he stalked away. Had Tony told him about the two of you, about the kiss? God, you hoped not. 

You could hear them talking, as well as the cupboards and refrigerator opening and closing. You strained to hear what they were saying, wondering what they could be discussing. You waited a couple of minutes before getting up and following Peter toward the kitchen. You stopped outside the door when Peter raised his voice, obviously upset about something.

“You can’t even be normal about this one thing, can you?” Peter grumbled, loudly. “You said something to upset Y/N, didn’t you?”

“Peter -”

“I don’t know why I thought you’d make it work,” Peter snapped. “You can’t do anything right.”

A second later, Peter stormed past you, tears in his eyes. You reached for him, but he was moving too fast, calling for Happy, and rushing out the door, Tony’s bodyguard and driver hot on his heels.

“Tony?” You stepped into the kitchen and peered around the edge of the refrigerator. Tony was sitting on one of the stools, his cup of coffee on the counter in front of him, along with two barely touched plates of food. He had his hand over his eyes. “What the hell was that?”

“Peter’s angry with me,” he sighed. “Again.”

“I can see that,” you said. “But, why?”

Tony dragged in a deep breath, his eyes boring a hole right into your soul. You had to force yourself not to fidget, clenching your hands in of you and returning the stare.

“He’s pissed because he thinks I screwed things up with you,” he stated. “And I think he may be right. I panicked after we kissed, so I resorted to my fall back position. Being an asshole.” He leaned forward, palms flat on the counter, the intensity of his gaze never wavering. “So tell me, Y/N? Did I screw up?”

“I didn’t know we’d reached a point where there was anything to screw up,” you stated. “We shared a kiss, nothing more.”

“Nothing more? Is that really how you feel?” Tony murmured. “I assumed -”

“You know what happens when you assume,” you muttered. 

“Y/N, please,” Tony sighed.

“Fine,” you said. “I’m sorry.” You cleared your throat, shifting uneasily in your seat. “I’m not going to lie, Tony. I have feelings for you. I’ve had feelings for you for awhile. But I’m just your employee, your son’s nanny. I was afraid to tell you, afraid you’d reject me. Now, I feel like that’s exactly what you’ve done.” 

Tony was beside you before you could say another word, leaning over you, gently grasping your chin, forcing you to look at him. “You’re so much more than a nanny, Y/N, so much more than that. I never wanted to reject you,” he said. “I just...I can’t bring you into my life, can’t let myself love you, not when I could screw everything up, ruin it. Like I did with Virginia.”

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s my fault she’s dead,” he whispered, the words forced out in one breath, obviously painful to say. “The night she died, we were fighting - had been fighting for days. She was furious with me, angry that I wasn’t being the father to Peter that she wanted me to be, angry that I was always working. And I was angry that she kept demanding so much of me. I’d gained a wife and a son in one swoop and I wasn’t handling it well. I was terrified and I was pushing her away. We fought, she took off, left, said she needed to some time to cool off, left me home to “practice being a father.” The next thing I know, the cops are standing at my door telling me she’s dead, killed in a car accident.”

You reached for him, your hand on his cheek. “Tony, that isn’t your fault,” you said.

“But it is,” he insisted. “I blame myself, Peter blames me -”

“Peter knows?” you gasped.

“Why do you think he’s been so angry with me?” he inquired. “He approached me a while back, wanted to talk to me about you, wanted to talk about how he knew I had feelings for you and how he was okay with me acting on them. He thought I was holding back because of him. I told him the truth, told him about the fight, the accident, all of it. I told him I was afraid of hurting you like I’d hurt his mom. It was...it was tough, on both of us. We’ve been struggling to get back to what we were.”

“Does he know about the kiss between us?” you asked.

“Yes,” Tony nodded. “He was over the moon excited when I told him. Then this morning -”

“You screwed it up,” you finished.

“I screwed it up. Look, I pushed Virginia away because I couldn’t be the man she wanted me to be.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, wincing as the memories assaulted him. “I’m afraid I won’t be the man you need me to be. I’m damaged, Y/N. You don’t want that.”

“But I do,” you said, inching closer, intentionally crowding him, pushing yourself into the circle of his arms.

Tony shook his head, but he didn’t move, one arm sliding around your waist. He brushed a strand of hair from your cheek, his fingers tangling in it, sliding through it to cup the back of your head. He rested his forehead against yours with a quiet moan.

“Are you sure you can handle me?” he muttered.

“I’m pretty good at dealing with children,” you smiled. “I think I can handle you.”

Tony ducked his head and kissed the corner of your mouth. “Let’s hope so,” he chuckled. Another kiss, this one to tip of your nose and another to the other side of your mouth. His hand slid around your throat and up to cup your chin, tipping your head back. His tongue danced across your lower lip, pushing into your mouth, the kiss deepening rapidly, until you were clutching at the lapels of his jacket, pulling him closer, one leg sliding around the back of his calf. Every nerve ending was on fire when he finally released you. He held you close, his fingers dancing lightly up and down your spine.

“I think you might be fired,” Tony whispered.

“Mmm, that’s okay, I’ll just quit,” you hummed.

“Is that your official resignation, Ms. Y/L/N?” he smirked.

“Yes, sir,” you replied.

Tony groaned, his hands tightening on your hips, pulling you flush against his body. “I accept your resignation,” he grinned, pressing his lips to the edge of your jaw. “So, how about dinner tonight?” 

 


End file.
